Red Sky At Morning - DK4 (32 page)

The two nearest her, she considered, were probably from poor families in tough neighborhoods. They were almost twins: medium height, Latin complexion, dark curly hair, and a permanent suspicious look in their eyes.

The redhead in the front of the line with the pugnacious chin and smattering of freckles looked like an only girl raised with a pile of brothers, some of whom were probably already in service.

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One of the remaining three was, Dar suspected, a cheerleader. She had the wholesome good looks and feathered blonde hair of one, along with a perky snub noise and a perfect smile.

Dar wondered what wrong turn she’d taken, and when she’d realize she’d taken it. Next to her was a short, heavyset girl with a bulldog attitude, who reminded Dar strongly of Chief Daniel.

Great.
Dar exhaled and turned her head slightly, startled to find the eyes of the last female swab fastened firmly on her. For an instant, clear, pale gray eyes met Dar’s with startling clarity, and then they dropped as the petty officer started to yell more orders.

Dar blinked. The girl was facing forward now, her blonde head cocked to one side as she listened. She was fairly short, shorter than Kerry by an inch or so, and she had a wiry, but very slender build. She held herself with a sense of secure confidence, despite the intimidating petty officer, and Dar felt an unusual curiosity prick her.

But not for that long, as the petty officer shoved them out the door and toward the processing center. Dar pushed off the railing and ambled after them, pushing the hinged doors open and moving to one side of the room as the new sailors picked up their new uniforms.

A computer terminal was on a table to her right, and Dar went directly to it, bringing up a login screen and entering a collection of letters and numbers in a rattle of keystrokes.

“Hey.” The petty officer was at her shoulder. “Are you supposed to be in there?”

“I have a password,” Dar replied. She scanned the information she was looking for and keyed in a further request. “Your swabs are unraveling.” She waited for the man to leave, then examined the record.

THE BOAT’S BOW bobbed up and down gently in the surf, a soothing motion that made the woman painting on its fiberglass surface smile. Ceci Roberts dipped her brush into a swirl of acrylic color, studied the canvas for a moment, and then continued her work. The underwater seascape had a wash of blue in a dozen shades and the floor of the sea with its coating of coral, and now she was going back in and putting in the vibrant colors of fish and leafy ocean foliage.

Nearby rested a small tray with a pitcher of iced tea and a bowl of fresh fruit. The slim silver-blonde woman paused again and selected a bit of melon, sucking on it as she considered her next stroke.

The sun splashed over her tanned skin and she idly watched the golden light, taking a moment to simply live, adoring the present and giving a silent thanks to the goddess for perhaps the thousandth time.

The boat rocked a little harder, and she looked up to see a pair of large hands clasping the lower railing, long fingers tightening on the metal then straining as the hands were followed by a large, wet, partially neoprene-covered body. Ceci smiled. “Hey there, sailor boy.

Find the problem?”

“I surely did.” Andrew pulled himself up and over the railing, then removed a bag slung at his waist and dumped its contents onto the white deck. “That there fish got stuck in the intake valve.”

“Ew.” Ceci grimaced. “Andy, if I wanted sushi on the boat, I’d have ordered out. Can you toss it overboard?”

The big ex-SEAL snorted, but scooped the messy item up and neatly chucked it over the railing. Then he squished over to where his wife was seated and peered at the painting, careful to avoid dripping murky salt-water on Ceci’s palette. “I do like that.”

Ceci tickled his exposed kneecap, then leaned over and kissed the spot, tasting the tang of the sea. “I do love you,” she told him. “I still think this has to be a dream.”

Andrew seated himself on the deck. “Seems that way sometimes, don’t it?” his deep voice rumbled quietly. “Been through a lot, you and I have. Maybe it’s just the good Lord’s way of saying we done all right.”

Ceci studied the scarred, weathered face next to her, its piercing blue eyes standing out with startling clarity. She traced a grizzled 174
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eyebrow gently. “Maybe.”

The cell phone resting on the deck next to her warbled. They both glanced at it, then Ceci sighed and picked it up. “Yes?”

“Ceci.”

And then again,
Ceci gazed plaintively up at the sky,
the goddess has
ways of reminding you just how easily karma can change.
“Hello, Charles,”

she replied. “To
what do I owe the honor of this call?”

Charles Bannersley was her older brother, the head of their family, and one of the largest ambulatory anal orifices Ceci knew. She was pissed at him, though she didn’t think he really understood why, and wanted to hear his voice about as much as she wanted a salt-water enema.

Andrew merely narrowed his eyes as he recognized the tinny voice coming from the phone Ceci was holding between them.

“I’d like to see you,” Charles answered. “Candy and I are here, in Miami.”

“Sorry,” Ceci replied crisply. “I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Fine. Have a drink with us first,” her brother came right back.

“Can’t you spare ten minutes for your family?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Lord.”

“My family?” Ceci decided to allow her spleen its moment. “My family’s sitting right here next to me. Of course I can spare any amount of time for Andrew.” She paused. “And Dar and Kerrison, of course.

Why do you ask?”

A sigh traveled through the cell phone’s speaker. “Cecilia, please.”

Andrew and Ceci exchanged looks. Andrew’s eyebrows lifted in amused surprise, giving him an expression very much like Dar’s would have been in the same situation.

Ceci considered, then shrugged. “Fine. There’s a tiki bar just off the marina here. Meet me in a half-hour. I can only stay a few minutes, though, Kerry’s picking us up for dinner after that.” Poke, poke. Ceci enjoyed the jab at her family’s straight-laced sensibilities.

“All right.” Charles hesitated. “Alone, Ceci.”

Andrew straightened in outrage and almost grabbed for the phone.

Ceci put a finger against his lips and held it out of range. “You’re joking, right?” she told her brother. “Did you really think I’d subject Andy to you two? Get real.” Her hand folded the phone shut, and she dropped it on the towel next to her. “Into every life, a little bird crap must fall, hmm?”

Andrew scowled. “Ah could go with you.”

“Nah.” Ceci ruffled his drying close-cropped hair affectionately.

“I’ll be safe. Charles is an idiot, but the last I checked, he wasn’t suicidal.” She tilted his chin up and kissed him. “Let me go toss on some scandalous clothing and find out what his problem is.”

Andrew watched her leave. He collected the tubes and other painting gear and tucked them away in the plastic bucket Ceci used and
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tidied the area, then stood and made his way aft to rid himself of his scuba equipment.

“A TIKI BAR.” Charles loosened his collar and glanced around.

“Figures.” He gave his twin sister a disgusted look. “I hate this place.

Always have.”

Candice fiddled with the table tent before her. She was of medium height, with reddish bronze hair and green eyes, like her brother, though his hair was thinning almost to invisibility. “Yes, well, what the hell did you expect, Charles? You knew what it would be like.”

He snorted and took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes wandering over the scantily clad bodies and diverse ethnicity of the bar. Candice poked him. “What?”

“Here she comes,” Candice told him. They both turned to watch as their younger sister made her way up the wooden boardwalk toward them. “Well, she looks healthy.”

Charles didn’t answer. His eyes studied the relaxed, self-assured person approaching, unable to refute the positive changes since the last time he’d seen Ceci. She’d let her hair grow out a little, and it was bleached even lighter from the sun, contrasting with the sun-darkened shade of her previously very pale skin.

She was no longer a ghost, eyes tensed in a remembered pain that never left her.

No longer lost.

She’d come home, and even Charles, who hated this place—and hated her choice—had to admit the truth of that. “Ceci.” He stood and greeted her as she joined their table. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Charles.” Ceci greeted him with wary cordiality. “Hello, Candy.”

Her sister smiled. “Hi, Cec. You look great.” She leaned forward.

“Did you color your hair, or is that a new lipstick or..?”

“No.” Ceci took a seat next to her older sister. “I’ve just been outside more than inside and put on ten pounds since you last saw me.

But thanks for noticing.” She caught the eye of the waiter. “Kahlua milkshake, please.”

“That’s different for you,” Candy commented.

“I picked up some new bad habits from Dar.” Ceci assumed a pleasant smile. “What do you two want?”

Her siblings exchanged glances. “Can’t we just want to see you?”

Charles asked.

“No.” Ceci looked directly at him. “Andrew told me what you did, Charles.” She referred to her brother’s refusal to pass on the Navy’s notification of Andrew’s rescue to her. “It’s a good thing you waited this long to contact me, because otherwise I’d have killed you for that.”

“Cecilia.”

“How dare you.” Ceci slapped the table with her hand, making the 176
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silverware jump. Her brother and sister jerked in startled surprise. “You pretentious little son of a bitch.”

Charles took a breath, clearly caught off guard. “I did what I thought was best for you,” he finally answered stiffly.

“Bullshit,” Ceci snapped, looking up as the waiter brought her milkshake and hurriedly left, seeing the angry faces. “Do you have any idea how badly I was hurting, Charles? How many days of pain you could have taken away from me with that damn piece of paper?” She slapped the table again. “Do you know just how ironic it is that my estranged daughter had to come back into my life to bring me back my Andy?”

Candy leaned forward and took her hand. “Cec, what Charles did was wrong. But he didn’t do it to hurt you.” She searched her sister’s angry eyes.

“There is no way you can convince me of that,” Ceci said, after a moment. “As much as you both hate Andrew, you knew how I felt about him.”

A silence fell. Charles looked down at his hands, his fingers twisted together. Candice took several slow, even breaths. “Yes, we knew,” she finally said. “We never understood why, but we...” She glanced at her twin. “I knew.” Another breath. “I’m sorry, Ceci.”

Charles refused to look up.

“I don’t want it to be like it was,” Candice continued, filling the awkward silence. “I don’t want to lose my sister and not have you be part of my life.”

“This is ridiculous.” Charles suddenly looked up. “We shouldn’t have to sit here and beg.”

“Charles!” Candice cut him off.

“No, I’m not going to shut up.” He stood angrily, then paused as someone gently cleared their throat next to him.

“Hi.” Kerry folded her hands in front of her. “Thought I recognized you. Mr. Bannersley, wasn’t it?”

Ceci let her chin rest on her fist, watching her daughter-in-law in action. Kerry had a sweet, engaging smile that totally didn’t match the fiery sparks visible in her pale green eyes. Her sense of presence was almost as significant as Dar’s, and it was obvious Kerry had been taking lessons from Ceci’s tempestuous and intimidating offspring.

Charles gave her a cursory stare. “What?”

“Kerrison Stuart.” Kerry stuck her hand out. “Dar’s partner? We met at the funeral.”

Charles gave her hand a perfunctory press. “Yes, well, you’ll excuse us, please. I’m having a discussion with my sister, and I suggest you leave us alone.”

Candice opened her mouth in outrage.

“You’re yelling at my mother-in-law, and
I
suggest you sit down and lower your voice before I shove you into Biscayne Bay,” Kerry told
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him in a mild, kind tone. She folded her arms, and in her snug tank top, her toned muscles looked healthily imposing. “Mind if I sit down?”

DAR CORNERED THE petty officer after he’d taken the new recruits to their barracks and gotten them assigned to bunks. “Do you assess them?”

“What?” The officer stared at her. “Not my job, lady. They do that at intake.”

“So where are their scores?”

“Scores? Who the hell cares?”

Dar felt like she was swimming through peanut butter. “How do you figure out where to place them if you don’t have scores?” She forced patience into her voice. “Or skill assessments?”

“Are you some kinda idiot?” the man spluttered. “These dorks don’t have skills, you moron. They’re nothing but bodies with empty heads. They’ll do whatever we train them to do. No one cares what their scores are.”

The sheet of white-hot rage hit her before she could defend against it. One moment she was standing with her Palm Pilot out, the next she’d grabbed the petty officer and slammed him against the wall, her hands reaching for automatic holds and a growl of pure animal emotion erupting from her throat. For a split second, she teetered on the edge of madness, and then her rational mind savagely ripped back control and forced her to merely push the man back against the wall.

Damn.

Dar waited for her throat to unclench, and then she took a breath.

“I don’t appreciate being called a moron.” Even she heard the rough touch to her tone. “Especially by someone whose mental power rates lower than a watch’s battery.”

The petty officer was breathing hard, his hands clenching and unclenching, barely in control. “Who in the hell do you think you are?”

he spat out.

For some reason, the question calmed Dar. She got herself under control, feeling the rage subside, leaving her knees trembling.
What in
the hell’s wrong with me?
she wondered uneasily. A pounding headache followed her return to sanity, and she had to swallow before she answered. “I think I’m the person your bosses hired to find out why this place isn’t working.” She leaned forward. “Maybe I just have.”